


Pitch through time

by trickstersGambit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Violence, kismesitude, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstersGambit/pseuds/trickstersGambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Demoness was Legislacerator Redglare's mission, but she becomes so much more than that the more Pyrope learns of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitch through time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viridianmasquerade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridianmasquerade/gifts).



> This could have been a thousand times better. I intended it to be a comic when I started it but I overreached a bit and wound up having to quickly shift it over to a fic. I'll post the art I intended to do on my art blog after the reveal.

The empire Library was built into a hill, with designs cut into the marble walls, telling the story of the empire's grace and rise to power. At night the carvings were hardly noticeable in the glow of the lamps, but during the day they shown bright, and on the eastern wall was a delicate carving dictating the story of the Empress and Demoness, tinted with paints derived from the blood of people. Rumor had it they were painted by the juggalo clan, so there was a good chance that the murals were historically biased.

But that wasn't really Latula's concern. Her mission was the Demoness, and that mural was the inspiration. Attached to it was the myth of a being that had been at every major turning point in history. Her task was to find out if it was a trait of rust blooded trolls, or an especially unusual rust blood. So far her research wasn't pulling up much information. Myths couldn't be taken as fact, and the incident report files were redacted. What she could glean could fill a thimble, basic annotations about the presence of a rust blooded female ram troll present in the feudal era, the crowning of the empress, through minor conflicts throughout the centuries, even at the rallies, capture, and execution of the Signless.

It wasn't that she believed in the empire. She just believed it needed to be taken apart responsibly, and a rebellion was the opposite of that responsible fashion, with the potential to leave the empire open for chaos. Not a single rebel she'd ever captured had been able to offer her a good long term goal to prevent that chaos. Not a single one since the ill fated Signless met his end. She'd been young then. So very young and impressionable. Now she, like so many others, wore the sign of his martyrdom over her heart, hiding her allegiance to a now dead rebel. Worst of all, from all these files and stories she'd gathered, this Demoness was at the center of it all.

Frustration built in the Legislacerator. Heavily redacted files did her no good, none of this was getting her anywhere... a sweep of her arm sent everything flying to the floor. Drones that patrolled the library glanced her way at the outburst and she held her hands up, sheepishly moving to pick the papers she'd scattered back up.

Lying on top of her half hazard pile was a file she didn't remember bringing with her. A more recent incident report from a green blood who'd been brought in for disturbing the peace. Latula eyed it thoughtfully, putting the pile back on the table, scooping the file out of it before flopping back into a seat. She grabbed her notes, scribbling down the name, location and occupation of the troll in question, along with every question she wanted to ask them.

Hours passed, and the deadly sun finally set. The thick, massive doors to the library were pulled open, and the legislacerator marched out, calling to the dragon who'd raised her. 

Within moments she was perched high on the beast's back, riding her through the darkening clouds. The air whistled through her hair and horns, tugged at her clothes and bit at her skin, refreshing her after hours of being locked away in the library.

She was almost reluctant to be on the ground again, but there were things that needed to happen, and they weren't going to happen on the back of Pyralsite. Theoretically of course she COULD do her work from the back of the dragon, but it wasn't a very practical plan of action. 

The sound of her boots on pavement held it's own satisfaction, at any rate, and she clacked her heels noisily against the cobbles as she marched to the troll's residence. It was still too early for most trolls to be awake, so her chances of finding this troll at home were fairly high, in her opinion, and it was her luck that Alternian officials didn't need permission to enter a premises if there was a history of inciting rebellion or causing a ruckus with anti-empire sentiments, so opening the door in the bright twilight was perfectly within her abilities as an official.

It didn't take much for Latula to jimmy the door open, in spite of the growling from Pyralsite, which only earned a bit of an eyeroll. 

“If you had other suggestions I'd take them.” She hissed quietly, slipping into the sparsly decorated suburban hive in search of the green blood from the file. 

Latula glanced at the surroundings, scrunching her nose. Papers and clothing littered the floor and flat surfaces. A glance told her that the papers were hand drawn fliers. Two gloved fingers plucked up the first paper nearest her hand. The symbol of the signless was faint on the page under clumsy handwriting, calling low bloods to a meeting in the catacombs. 

“Yes. Lure them down into the dark depths of the city where they can be scooped up by the drones.” Latula scoffed, throwing the paper to the side, making her way further into the hive, softening her footsteps so as not to wake her prey prematurely.

At the back of the hive was block designated to recuperation, still locked down for the day, lit only by the eerie glow of sopor slime. Latula eyed the recurcoon, pulling her cane from her strifedeck. A slow careful tug and the head came off, unsheathing a blade with a near silent snick. Her eyes carefully judged the weapon, rolling it between her hands for a moment before she carefully slid it into the opening at the top of the coon, directly across the opening, and found herself a seat not far away.

Papers were rifled through while she waited for her prey to wake, a self satisfied smirk on her lips as she flipped through plans she found on the floor. It wasn't long before the hive began to cool, announcing the growing night and signaling to the resident troll that they should wake up.

And they did, a noisy gasp rattling from them as they jerked forward, only to encounter the blade at their chest, a loud distressed wail ripping out of them, drawing the Legislacerator's attention to her victim.

“Oh good. You've decided to join me, finally.” Latula swept herself to her feet, watching the green blood struggle to dislodge the blade, only managing to cut their hands on it. A shark-like smile pulled at Redglare's lips and she leaned over the opening, peering in at the troll, holding up the plans. “Now, based on the organization here in your hive, or lack thereof, honestly, I don't really think you're capable of pulling this kind of thing off on your own, especially not when your previous attempts have been loud rallies in open areas. Get tired of getting arrested, hmm? Ask someone for help planning?”

“I. I don't know what you're talking about... Why would you... Why are you here??? What is this?” The troll panicked, thrashing in the slime.

“Oh my. Such lucidity for an early evening, while still in coon. It looks like someone's sopor is watered down.” She eyed the mixture, dipping a gloved finger in, running it between two fingers to check consistency. “Now there are two causes for this. Either you've decided not to take your mandated dose, or someone's doing this TO you, and based on the papers you've so clumsily left around the hive, I cant' say I really believe you're not at least a little bit complicit in this criminal disregard of empirical law...” She looked down her nose at the greenblood, frowning severely.

“I--”

“And of course you know, as a legislacerator I'm required by law to report any transgressions I find upon entering the hive of a parolee suspected of being involved in treasonous activities... Of course if you answer my questions I could be convinced to fudge the lines a little on this one.” Based on the information she found around the hive it wasn't wise to let that happen. The group this little greenblood was involved in was suggesting an outright murder of the higher up government, from the top down, like the deposition of Troll Ceaser. She couldn't let that happen on her watch.

“I... I don't.”

“Of course if you don't answer I could always just haul you out of there and throw you before His Honorable Tyrany for trial. You and I both know treason isn't looked well upon in his court.” She hummed idly. “And with the dose evasion charge here you're definitely looking at either lifetime servitude or an outright execution.”

“W... What do you want to know?”

“Thats what I like to hear.” Latula grins, leaning forward into the sopor glow to let herself be lit up menacingly. “Tell me about your guide. Your muse, as it were.”

An hour later she was alerting the drones to the troll's defiance of the soporific mandate, and climbing back on Pyralsite's back, launching off to prepare her plans for the meeting she needed to crash. 

–

The catacombs were echoy and chilly. Latula hated the feeling of them, hated how they smelled, hated how they left people trapped like squeak beasts for large hunting creatures. Even so, the catacombs were where she found herself, dressed in black, rather than her usual red and teal, with all signs of her job removed for the evening. 

She hated it. Like everything else about this part of her mission, it left her feeling exposed and weak.

Ahead of her loomed a small crowd talking in hushed tones, waiting for something. A glance above the gathering spoke of several different forms of large horns, but her eyes were searching for a specific set. Long and gracefuly curved—and there they were, attached to a troll in bright green, lips painted red as she watched what Latula could only presume to be her pawn climb steps to a hastily put together stage, judging from the creaking sound of wood.

What the troll had to say didn't matter to Redglare. She was interested in the muse. She passed around the back of the group as quietly as she could, hoping to be ignored as she sought out the rust blood...

All at once a whistle blew, and the crowd scrambled, bumping into her, and each other, as they tried to find their escape.

The fools were early. She needed more time, but she wasn't going to get it, apparently.

Impatient eyes scanned the area, seeking the flash of green that was attached to the troll she'd come here for.

Several feet away the troll in question stood at the center of the chaos, a threshy looming on her, seeking to grab her up. Irritation flooded Latula as she struggled to get to her first... Only for her to pop out of existence. 

–

Days later Latula growled. Her night off found her perched at the table in her meal preperation block, notes taped up to her cabinets, a map spread over cork with pins sticking out indicating everywhere the enterogations of the trolls captured at the meeting suggested meetings and gatherings might happen.

Coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug as she slammed it down on the counter, pacing away from everything, rage filling her.

“How could none of them know who she was?” Latula growled, thumping her head against the wall.

A breeze stirred her hair and clothes, sending chills down her spine. 

“I thought I--”

“Closed the window?” A deep, feminine voice murmured across the room, a smirk evident in her tone. “You did, but I didn't like it, so I changed it.”

Latula spun, pressing herself against the wall, panting softly 

“YOU.” Standing by the sink was the troll she'd been hunting. The very same Demoness. 

“Me. You've been very troublesome, Legislacerator Redglare.” she hummed, looking over the map. “Your hunting has been interfering with my plans...”

“Your plans have been interfering with my government, Demoness.”

The woman rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the notes.

“Such a petty, trivial thing, I do like the title though. I think I'll keep it. Much better than 'Handmaid'.” She mused, tapping a note idly. “Still, Annoying as you've been, you HAVE earned yourself something of a boon.”

“A boon?” Latula asked, inching closer, frowning at the Demoness's examination.

“Of course.” the rust blooded troll said magnanimously, plicking five flags out of the map, throwing them onto the counter.

Latula glared, gathering her notes. 

“Fine. I want...” A lot of things. To take her in for her crimes, to punch her in the face, to have the answers... “to know why.”

“Why?” 

“Yes. Why.”

There was a pause, the Demoness plucking another flag out of the board. 

“Because it amuses me.” For such a pregnant pause, it was a painfully flippant answer, and Latula couldn't help but hate it. 

“That's... That's it?” She took deep breaths between clenched teeth. “Attempting to destabilize the empire because IT AMUSES YOU?”

The demoness gave her a considering look, then shrugged. “Well, it's certainly not the only reason but it's the only reason you're getting right now.”

“The-- YOU SAID I GOT A BOON.”

“Yes. I didn't say what kind, did I? I didn't promise you answers. I didn't give you any indication of impending honesty with those regards...” she chuckled at her own private joke. 

There was the snick of a blade and Latula pointed her blade at the Demoness, shoulders squared, robe fluttering in the wind. The Demoness didn't seem surprised at all, smirking as she drew her wands from her hair, sliding one along the length of the blade as her hair tumbled down her back.

“Now this is more what I had in mind.” A flick of the wrist and her wand slapped the blade away, the ram troll dancing away to put space between them. 

The blade slashed forward, parried by a blast of power. Latula didn't know what to make of it, but it was certainly something.

It was a fight like no other. The two were well matched, clashing together and falling apart like choreography, an intricate, intimate dance of blossoming hate that soon found the Legislacerator pinned to the wall under the Demoness, lips captured in passion.

They spent the rest of the night, and the entirety of the day like that, tumbling passionately between banter, battle, and lust. The cycle was only broken by the cooling that signaled the end of day and the beginning of the safe darkness that ruled Alternian life.

“Mm this has been utterly delightful, but unfortunately I can't tarry longer.” The Demoness sighed, stretching contentedly before giving Latula's backside a teasing pinch and prying herself away from the legislacerator.

Latula groaned, arching away, watching her move with an appreciative hum. “See you later, Damara?”

“If you play your cards right.” A smile pulled at the Demonesses' lips, and she winked, disappearing into nothing.

–

Weeks passed, followed by perigees, and sweeps. More meetings were torn up, a few even before they managed to coalesce, and the two trolls managed to run into each other more than occasionally. Damara even let herself be caught a time or two. It was in this fashion that their kismesitude began to flourish.

The docks brought word of a new threat, both to Latula's sense of justice, and Damara's plans. 

Mindfang.

The pirate was a nuisance, even having lost her eye and arm to Pyralsite. 

When they discussed it, Damara seemed to know something more than she was letting on. 

“Things won't end well if you keep chasing her, Latula.” she cautioned, leaning on the table to adjust the location of a flag.

“I can't just let her get away with her sabotage.” the teal troll grumbled, shoving a piece of grub loaf into her mouth. 

“Let me rephrase that. You will die. Many people will die.” 

“She has to be brought to justice!”

Damara sighed, rubbing her face, leaning on the table.

“You won't be afforded the chance to apologize if it turns out I'm right.” and that was the last of the conversation.

Sadly it floated back to the surface of her thoughts as she stood before His Honorable Tyrany, and the gathering of lowbloods who found entertainment in the trials.

Blue flashed in the eyes of the crowd, and Latula felt her blood churn cold as they surged onto the stage, pulling at her flesh.

“CHEAT. CHEATER.” Latula cried, struggling against the hold, trying to block out the cocky laughter of the cerulean blooded troll.

The warmth of familiar hands brushed against her cheeks, and Latula twisted her head back, trying to see the faces of her captors. There, above her head, eyes washed in Mindfang's blue, was her kismesis, a noose in hand, tears on her face as she struggled to break the hold on her mind. 

“DAMARA. DAMARA LI--” all of a sudden the hands on her body pulled, an audible, sickeningly wet crunch resounded from her neck, and the hold on the trolls released, mindfang escaping before any of them even realized what they'd been complicit in.

A growl bubbled in Damara's chest, and a decision was made. Mindfang's fate was written in that moment. She would become a rebel, and she would die. The Demoness would see to all of it. Every last wicked detail.

She might have warned Latula not to stay the course, that didn't mean she'd wanted to lose her kismesis. What was to come would be the longest, most complex fall any had ever been subjected to. The rebellion Mindfang would come to be the head of would be the bloodiest failure. And of course it would have to be a rebellion. What better way to remember her kismesis than doing exactly what she hadn't wanted in life?

When her time finally came, centuries after the fall of Mindfang and the Summoner, Damara met her pitch in the bubbles, telling her all her secrets, finally, and everything that had happened since their parting, proud of how she'd spent her life, and more than pleased to answer for it. It was all the freedom she'd ever desired in life.


End file.
